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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29828211">Hollow</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/oerhisheartashadow/pseuds/oerhisheartashadow'>oerhisheartashadow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Harmony Series (Hollow-verse) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>College-ish AU, E for smut, F/M, Katara is a violinist, Modern AU, Oral, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Part one of three, Smut, Sokka is cellist., This is the soft one., Zuko is a pianist, actual plot? what's this??, hint past jetko, hinted past jetara, orchestra AU, smut is further down., zuko post therapy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:47:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,509</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29828211</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/oerhisheartashadow/pseuds/oerhisheartashadow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A song lyric fic from "400 Lux" by Lourde.</p><p>The actual lyric: We're hollow like the bottles that we drain / You drape your wrists over the steering wheel / Pulses can drive from here / We might be hollow, but we're brave ~ 400 Lux, Lorde</p><p>This one's a bit about falling in love, note by note.<br/>The next part is about new love, in a swell of harmony.<br/>The last part is about love surviving, after the notes have faded.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Suki (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Harmony Series (Hollow-verse) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2241531</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>98</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>2021 Song Quote Challenge</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>If you want some theme music, please listen to the playlist specifically created for this story, linked at the beginning of the story. &lt;3 Please enjoy!! I would love to hear your comments and whether you would like to see that second part... &lt;</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <a>
    <em>
      <span>Youtube Playlist here.</span>
    </em>
  </a>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It starts innocuously enough; a new member of the orchestra, one who speaks quietly, but who’s notes speak volumes. He’s a pianist, somber-faced and sullen, who would rather his piano be at the back of the room than in the front and center. Not that he had any control over the matter— the conductor had made the change upon his arrival. The young man had been chagrined, reticent, begging for a change, but the conductor was adamant. They were going to showcase his talent. Katara had seen the interaction, watched the color rise to his scarred cheek, and felt a pang of sympathy. She had fought a similar battle when Jeong Jeong had made her first chair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For all of the newcomer’s protest, Katara finds herself happy with the new arrangement. He is a brilliant pianist, and despite the first few days of awkward glances across the rest of the orchestra, he quickly falls into his music, his eyes fixated on the page. But he’s not stilted she finds, despite how taut he holds his body. His notes are haunting and rich, played with the hand of experience. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a song she’s heard a million times, and she’s played a million times more, but when his fingers light across the ivory keys, her breath snags in her throat. This is not the music of a practice and routine. The half-moments, the small catches, the variation of the volume and length… she almost misses her cue, coming in just shy of too late. The rest of the strings follow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She receives the scolding she expects from Jeong Jeong, and the practice continues. It’s not until she’s examining her bow’s strings as the rest are packing up, that Jeong Jeong calls her over along with her brother and the newest musician. The other two are delayed for a moment: Sokka is fiddling with his end pin on the cello, and the other young man has been cornered by Jin from percussion. The former is perturbed, the latter is flustered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Katara, again, I was surprised to find you so distracted.” Her conductor brings her attention around while they wait. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, Conductor. It won’t happen again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should hope not. I have high hopes for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Confusion knits her brow. “I’m sorry, what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the pause, Sokka arrives, grumbling about the loose pin, and the pianist shifts awkwardly behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, good.” Jeong Jeong offers a tight smile. “I’m glad to have you three here. Katara, Sokka; we have been able to highlight you two often in the past, your solos and duets have often drawn much praise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka beams at him, but Katara knows what comes next: more practices, more work, more time taken away after her classes. She’s not sure how much more time she has left to give.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But now we have a star pianist,” he gestures to the uncomfortable young man who grimaces, “and I think the three of you could easily become a force to be reckoned with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katara glances at the young man, now with his head bowed and a hand at his neck, and can’t help but smile. He’s a different sort, she finds, more uncomfortable with the limelight, but hard to miss in the shadows. His voice is solid when he speaks, finally meeting the conductor's eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not very good at practicing with others, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes narrow, suddenly reconsidering her position on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And why is that?” She can’t keep the challenge out of her tone, nor stop the way her arms cross over her chest. “Afraid we can’t keep up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she hadn’t been glaring so hard at him, she might have missed the slight flinch that dances across his features, before he turns a schooled expression to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The opposite, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her arms unwind, and she can feel the blush start on her cheeks. “Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the bark of a laugh, Sokka throws an arm over the pianist’s shoulders. “Just ignore Katara. She’s still trying to grow up under her big brother’s shadow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her blue eyes roll, affixing him with a lackluster glare. “It would help if said big brother was actually doing anything other than partying, skipping classes and fucking Suki.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! I’ve still got a 3.8!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miraculously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not all of us are perfectionists like you.” Sokka turns back to the rapidly pinking pianist still caught between them. “You learn to ignore her glares. I’m Sokka by the way, and this here is Katara.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again rolling her eyes, she sticks out a hand, and he accepts it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zuko.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you, Zuko.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka breaks away, glancing across the room, his face splitting with a grin. “Is that…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katara spots the object of his distraction. “Sokka, you just saw her yesterday, you can’t possibly be this excited—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>
    <em>Suki!</em>
  </b>
  <span>” His voice echoes across the empty playhouse, and he bounds down the stairs towards the small red-headed figure at the doors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shakes her head, turning a wry smile towards Zuko. “Sorry about Sokka, he can be a little… much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young man shrugs, a small smile pulling at his own features. “It’s okay. Kinda nice, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katara raises a brow. “Try living with him. I doubt you’d feel the same way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Zuko chuckles softly, Katara finds she keeps the sound stored away in her memories. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Sokka and Katara are already practicing when Zuko arrives, out of breath and already flustered. But as the doors open, he pauses at the threshold, taking a moment to just listen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are both swaying slightly, eyes closed, the music weaving and dancing between them like a call and response, before growing into a complementary harmony. It’s a song he’s never heard before, but it catches memories at the back of his throat. He expects some sort of conclusion, some crescendo, but it fades, as if unfinished, as if still waiting to be written. He glances at the two of them, but neither move as if to experiment, to write more. It’s then he realizes: it’s not meant to be completed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The memories swell in his throat, his mother just behind his eyelids, but he swallows it down. It’s painful, whatever this is between them, and he leaves it alone, much as he would hope they would his own wounds. So instead, he steps forward, making his presence known, and they both snap their heads up towards him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their greeting is warm and inviting, and all of the anxiety he felt as he stepped in the door disappears. He’s grateful they don’t ask why he’s late or out of breath. Instead, when he sits at the piano stool, his fingers gently resting on the smooth, cool ivory, he allows the emotions that are always associated with a phone call from his sister flow from him. Effortlessly, the three stream together, as if they had played as a trio from infancy. The swell and drop of the music, the emotion they portray, it’s unspoken and unrehearsed. A dip in the piano, where he looses the feeling, Katara swells with her sweet, soft strings. When she bows, the emotions in her notes are too strong, Sokka’s deep bass resonates, either plucking or spanned by his bow. And when the strings falter, Zuko pulls the pieces together like a weaver, twisting them into a final tapestry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The harmony is new, unwritten, but it holds the bits and pieces of the three of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If this was how warm ups are supposed to be, Zuko thinks, he’s been doing them wrong for far too long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The actual practice is more structured, more methodical, but even there he finds that they complement each other’s rise and fall, stirring the heart of the notes into something felt more than heard. It’s in those notes that he hears the pain and loss for something he can’t identity in Sokka’s throaty rasp across the cello. It’s in the sudden staccato of Katara’s bow across the strings that he hears her anger and frustration, her demands for something more and better. When he holds for a half-beat longer than called for, only to rush forward, to catch up, he wonders what they hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And as the final notes fade, the three meet each other’s eyes and there’s something shared, intangible but real, between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he won’t hate practice so much after all. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Sokka’s voice rings out loud (Katara wonders if he ever spoke quietly, and can’t remember a time, if he had) even though his phone is plastered to his ear. Katara settles her violin gently into its velvet casing, taking a moment to rosin her bow while her brother loudly chats with the person on the other end of the phone. Zuko merely shuffles his gaze between them, as if judging when to bolt out the door. His golden eyes are locked on her brother, and it gives her a moment to study him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the way they had flowed, he seemed anxious, as if one sudden noise would startle him away. This doesn’t seem to be a foreign occasion for him. His stance betrays knowledge and she recognizes the subconscious way he falls into a defensive position, ready as if to deflect a blow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His shoulder length dark hair is pulled back loosely at the nape of his neck, allowing her more access to the shape and dimension of the scar that blazed across his left temple and eye. A part of her wonders at it, but she stifles the curiosity, giving him the privacy she would want. Instead, she takes in the rest of him: his face is composed of straight lines and complementary angles, his bright eyes a noticeable contrast under the dark tendrils of hair that had escaped during practice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she is able to compile these thoughts or what they are currently doing to her stomach, a hand passes across her face too close for comfort, and Katara elbows the source of it brusquely in her alarm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeez, ‘tara, you were zoned out there. I was just trying to get your attention.” Sokka wheezes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her lips twitch. “There are easier ways.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I tried those first, but you ignored me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you talking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah, I wa--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then of course I ignored you. It’s hard to tell when you’re yelling into your phone or yelling at me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka’s only retort is a stuck-out tongue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katara sighs, her patience running thin. “If it’s that important, then what is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Suki’s coming. I was thinking… I mean, I’ve been meaning to take her to dinner...” his voice trails off, and she recognizes his unspoken question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get it. Third wheel and all. I’ll snag the bus.” Katara tries to hide the frustration-- after all, it has been some time since Sokka and Suki had been able to be together, without his little sister tagging along-- but the concept of lugging school books and her violin across multiple changes turns her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko breaks through her growing scowl. “Where about do you live? I could take you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At the edge of the Habote District. Near the harbors. I’m sure it’s out of your way.” Her voice is pulled thin, stretched taut with frustration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lopsided smile breaks the tension, his gold eyes glinting. “Not at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Katara can respond, Sokka claps Zuko on the back, a big smile on his face. “Thanks, man! It’s been so long since it’s been just me and my girl--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“--I’m sure Suki would just love to be referred to as that.” Katara rolls her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-- And I have been needing to devote some time to just her, ya know…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katara tunes them out as she finishes packing up her instrument. Together, the three of them emerge from the empty university concert hall. A chipper voice calls from behind them: Suki. Zuko may not have known her personally, but Sokka’s response leaves no doubt of her identity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka and Suki quickly peel off, his car barely fired up before they are backing from the parking spot and taking off, leaving Zuko and Katara standing in the practically vacant parking lot in silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko’s hand rubs the back of his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katara clears her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko gestures vaguely at the only vehicle left in the parking lot: a surprisingly sensible coupe. It’s older, but kept in good shape, and far different from the kind of vehicle she would have expected based off of his striking appearance and demeanor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s yours?” She tries and fails to hide the incredulousness in her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If it was anything other than broad daylight, she might have missed the slight pink on his cheeks. His hand again rubs at the back of his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. She’s a bit old, but she’s reliable. And really comfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is Katara’s turn to blush. “I’m sorry-- that sounded so much ruder than I meant. It’s just that-- well-- you don’t seem the sort to have that sort of car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amusement flickers across his face. “What type of car did you expect?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know! Something fast? Something flashy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There it was again, his lopsided smirk, and Katara feels her stomach flip, and she curses its acrobatics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you had met me fresh out of High School, sure. But I’ve come to enjoy reliability a little bit more.” He opens the hatch and moves towards the passenger side door. Katara places her violin down gently in the trunk. As she climbs into the side that he offers, he continues. “Besides, I’ve done some modifications, and she can get and go with the best of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There it is!” She can’t help the smile that blossoms across her face. “There's the bravado I was expecting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is still laughing as he shuts her door and enters the driver’s side. “Didn’t know I was that predictable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe not to most, but I’ve got a big brother.” Her eyes narrow in a challenge. “I can figure out most guys within the first month or so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shrugging, he pulls his phone from his pocket, slipping it into the center console. As he backs out he nods unseeingly towards it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Passenger’s choice. You run the music.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eagerly, Katara snatches up the phone-- Sokka </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> lets her choose the music-- before she wonders at the permission and the ease at which she accepted it. Swallowing, she scrolls through his playlists, trying to keep her mind on the action at hand, and not her pounding heart. It doesn’t take long for the emotion to subside, to fall to the back burner, and her music choice fills the car cabin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes out the window, she allows the music to fill the silence between them, only punctuated by her directions to the small two bedroom apartment she and her brother share. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she climbs out of the car, she throws a smile at Zuko. “Thank you again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My pleasure. See you tomorrow at practice?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katara closes the trunk with a determined click, before nodding at him through his open car window. “Be safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An awkward silence falls over them, and she shuffles once more before nodding definitively. “See you tomorrow.” Without waiting for his reply, she bolts for the door, moving as fast as she can without looking conspicuous. But as the door locks behind her, she slides down it’s cold metal surface. Her heart is beating its own staccato in her chest, and she can’t help but wonder at her reaction, both excited and dreading practice.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Sokka, for his part, loved this new solution to his particular problem. Despite her half-hearted protests, Zuko and Sokka quickly dispel her arguments. It’s not out of his way, Zuko insists. Suki and I don’t have to gross you out, Sokka reminds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka doesn’t notice when Katara stops protesting. Zuko notices when she creates a new playlist called “Some of us have taste.” Katara notices when the playlist is already queued when she gets in the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s about a month and a half of practice when she slides into the passenger seat, and kicks off her sandals. She finds it surprising at the ease of which she has slipped into this routine-- the three of them practice, Sokka meets up with Suki and they go off together, Zuko and Katara get into his car and make the forty minute drive to her and Sokka’s apartment by the harbors. Zuko’s pulling out of the concert hall’s parking lot, when she looks up from the playlist she’s still curating on his phone, and sees him shuffle slightly in his seat, the leather protesting gently. His eyes are fixated on the road, but the set of his shoulders is rigid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something’s off. She can feel it, even if she can’t pin the cause. However, Katara’s not one to miss out on an opportunity to take in the casual line of his shirt, or how it settles against his lean frame. She’s come to the conclusion that the flutter of nervousness at the beginning of their drives is the start of a blossoming crush, but she’s been quick to settle it down. After all, he hadn’t seemed to give her any hints of anything being reciprocal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now he’s shuffling in his seat, watching for traffic that hasn’t passed in over 30 seconds, his back tense, his gaze fixedly not on her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Consider her curiosity peaked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zuko?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He startles. “Hm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um… what are we waiting for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glances about for a moment, as if awoken from a trance. “Oh. Uh, Sorry. I was just thinking…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raises a brow. “About?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” he glances at her hesitantly, “ice cream?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katara shrugs with a smile. “Understandable.” The smile stays locked on her face. “Any particular reason why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been a really hot day,” the smile on his face grows, “and there’s this place that’s kind of my secret spot to go for ice cream…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say no more!” She throws up a hand to stop him. “To ice cream!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko laughs, and Katara finds that the small box she had shoved this burgeoning crush into is not big enough to contain that laugh, and her face erupts in a grin. The laugh still on his lips, he offers up a counterpoint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s kind of in the opposite direction--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She points her hands forward with alacrity. “To </span>
  <em>
    <span>ice cream!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His only response is to laugh harder and pull out of the parking lot.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Ice cream at his favorite spot is soon ingrained in their routine. The end of the week signals pistachio ice cream and a slightly longer drive home. Katara finds that she doesn’t mind this crush running free in her skull as much as she thought she would, and instead feeds it with little moments. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moments like the brush of his fingers as he hands her his phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moments like the way his wrists drape over his steering wheel, fingers drumming on the console. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moments like the way his golden eyes watched her chase the rapidly melting ice cream down the waffle cone with her tongue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he never exits the car, never offers to walk her to the door, even though his car lingers in eyeline of her entryway until the door closes behind her. And the realization of that fact tempered the growing warmth she felt when it was just the two of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three months passes quickly, their practices becoming more experimental, their styles melding together easily. Katara flows like a river between the cello and the piano, her style shifting to fit her compatriot’s. On practices where she moved with grace, Zuko met her with passion, and Sokka stepped in to flush out, to add depth to her deeper notes, they would run long. Suki would often join them, taking it all in as their sole audience. When they emerged, the moon was beginning to emerge in the purpling sky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their conversations overlap, and soon Katara finds herself at the passenger door of Zuko’s coupe before Sokka clears his throat, his face quizzical. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you, Katara.” Sokka’s brow is furrowed. “Suki’s coming to our place for movie night tonight. You don’t need to ride with Zuko.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” She looks down to see her hand still gripping Zuko’s door handle, and with determination, she releases it. “Guess our ritual will have to wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katara meets his half smile over the hood of his car. He shrugs effortlessly. “It’s okay. Raincheck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s not quite sure what makes it hurt more-- that he seems unfazed by the change from their routine, or if his smile seems to be pitying. Unfazed; well, she’s had plenty of unrequited interests in the past, she’ll grow past it. Pitying, however, is something different. Pitying her because her crush is so abundantly obvious-- that she can’t even be coy enough not to be pitied when she has to go back to reality-- it smarts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her cheeks are all colors of red when she turns away, refusing to meet Zuko’s eye. Hauling herself into the back seat of Sokka’s beat up Jeep, she keeps her eyes firmly locked out the opposite window. Embarrassment quickly morphs to shame. She should know better. This was stupid-- she was stupid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Sokka backs out of the parking spot, he throws a glance back at her via his rearview mirror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, don’t be mad at me for screwing up your ‘ritual’.” He shrugs. “Whatever it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels the growing upset in her chest, the deep ache of shame. “It’s ice cream. That’s it.” Tears prick at her eyes. “And I’m not angry at you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka catches her tone, and glances again at the rearview mirror. “Ice cream? You’re that upset over ice cream?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suki shoots him a look, but he either chooses to ignore it, or misses it entirely; Katara doesn’t see which one it is. Instead, he plunges in deeper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s your time again, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both Suki and Katara round on him with fury in their eyes. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What??</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka cowers under both of their glares, but answers to Suki in the front seat. “She’s emotional about </span>
  <em>
    <span>ice cream</span>
  </em>
  <span>! What am I supposed to think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That there’s something else that’s the matter!” Suki’s face is incredulous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence descends for a moment, but he breaks it with a half-mumbled protest. “Didn’t know you were on it too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>
    <em>SOKKA.</em>
  </b>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The next practice is awkward, the fluidity found between them is stilted and rough. When Katara scowls at the strings under her bow, curses her fingers for shaking, and protests about where her rest is digging into her collarbone, Zuko and Sokka share a concerned look. Surprising to Sokka, it’s Zuko who speaks first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we should call it for tonight. I don’t think any of us are at our best.” Sokka watches Zuko’s eyes flit between them, but they linger slightly longer on the young woman who is still angrily fidgeting with her wayward chin rest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she notices the silence, she looks up and meets two pairs of concerned eyes on her. With frustration, she stomps a foot and sighs, but her fidgeting stops. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fine.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She spits the word like it’s vinegar on her lips. Without another word, she marches to her case and flings it open. Pausing for a breath, she eases her nerves, replacing her violin in its velvet encasing with ease and gentility. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka moves to tear down his cello, but meets Zuko’s eye for another moment. Zuko’s lips twist uncomfortably, but he moves to go speak to her, only stopping as Sokka speaks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, it seems like this might not be the best time,” Sokka begins with a nervous chuckle, “but there really isn’t any other time available. Suki and I are celebrating our anniversary a little early this year. Wanted to take the weekend to ourselves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katara’s eyes drill into his. “What are you saying, Sokka?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That you guys can take up that raincheck now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A muscle in Katara’s jaw twitches. “You need Zuko to take me back to the apartment? That’s what you’re saying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka’s face brightens only to dim slightly when Katara turns back to her bow, her rosin sliding easily across it’s taut strands. Her fingers are white as they grip the bar of rosin. The words that escape her are as tight as the bow in her hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If Zuko can put up with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pianist scowls slightly at her words, blinking. “I don’t…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of the zipper of her case being pulled closed vigorously drowns out any protest he might give. She spins on her heel and is down the stairs from the stage in one long bound. Sokka watches as Zuko follows her rapid escape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zuko, what did you do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t even bother to protest the accusation. “I have no idea.” His shoulders set. “But I intend to find out.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>She’s got the violin case propped up against her leg, her arms and ankles crossed, leaning against the passenger door of his car. Blue eyes glower at the sky blue chipping paint of her brother’s Jeep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko swallows before drawing himself up, stepping up to the car. “What did I do, Katara?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing.” The word escapes her in a huff, clipped and sharp. She turns to the door, but as she yanks on the handle nothing happens. Blue eyes meet his for the first time, and he’s taken aback by the venom in her glare. “You going to unlock the door?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sets his jaw. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not until you tell me what the hell is going on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes narrow, and she meets his steady gaze head on for a long moment. She sneers before dipping to pick up her instrument, already in motion to pass him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she passes him, he calls out after her. “Where are you going?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bus stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Katara, wait.” He sighs, turning to follow her as she marches out of the parking lot. “Wait!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” She rounds, a finger leveled at his chest. “So you can pity the poor stupid girl, with her stupid crush some more?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m sorry, what?” Confusion knits his brow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh please!” She rolls her eyes. “Don’t act naive. We both know you’re just putting up with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stumbles back slightly. Now it’s his time to be hurt, he finds, and it aches in an unfamiliar way in his chest. For a moment, the words dry on his tongue, and he stares at her blankly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes narrow. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a growl, she spins on her heel, resuming her march. Without thought, Zuko’s hand snags her elbow and spins her around. Intensity and sincerity fill his stare as he searches her eyes, holding her arms in a firm grip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where--” he bites out the words, trying to force the hurt from his voice, “--the </span>
  <em>
    <span>everloving fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> did you get the idea that I was ever ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>putting up with’ you</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His actions startle her and she meets his golden eyes with mouth agape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I..” The words die on her tongue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Katara,” his grip on her elbows softens, his face imploring, “I do not ‘put up with’ you. I never have. I…” His words falter for a moment, but she doesn’t interrupt him, so he sighs before he continues. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> enjoy your company.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue eyes go wide, and her voice goes soft. “You do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Exasperation laces his words, and he shakes his head softly. “I wish I knew where you got the idea that I didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her head drops, but not before he sees her cheeks color slightly in the fading sunlight. “I guess…” Her voice fades, but she sucks in a breath and closes her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry, Zuko.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His single dark brow raises dubiously at her matter-of-fact tone. Warily, he nods, his words tentative. “Me… too. Are we okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods sharply, finally opening her eyes to meet his, and pauses. Something passes behind her eyes: soft, relieved, welcoming, and he finds the hands on her elbows tighten once more. The touch is firm but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she leans in slightly, her eyes flicking from his lips to his eyes. He mirrors her action, taking a slight step in, releasing the grip on her elbow to slide up her arm, letting his fingers trail goosebumps in the cooling breeze of the oncoming night. He glances up once more, as if asking if it’s okay, before his fingertips raise to curl under her chin, lifting it ever so slightly, so all he has to do is--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! Zuko, Katara! Where are you guys?” Sokka’s voice rings out loudly around the corner of the building. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trance broken, they nearly jump apart. Katara is glancing everywhere but at him, her violin case held between them like a shield. Zuko’s hand rests at the back of his neck, a sigh on his lips before he responds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Over here, Sokka.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka’s heavy tread rounds the building. “Is… everything okay?” His dark eyes dart between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Katara answers, and Zuko glances at her hopefully, but she doesn’t meet his eye. “Just… a misunderstanding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The relief coming off of Sokka is palpable. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Good.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes narrow at him. “No, I didn’t screw up your weekend plans to fuck Suki.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka’s hands come up in a defensive posture. “I wouldn’t dream of intimating that, lil’ sis.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elder sibling turns to Zuko with a pleading expression. “A little help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko shakes his head, crossing his arms. “Nah, you did this to yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shock laces Sokka’s face. “I thought we were friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are friends. Doesn’t mean I’m following you into the fire.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka opens his mouth to protest, but Katara interrupts him, pointing behind him. “Just shut up and go tend to your girlfriend. Tui and La knows she deserves it, putting up with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All fear dissipates from Sokka’s face as he rounds, a grin plastered across his lips. “Suki!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko watches on, amused. “You’d think he hasn’t seen her in months.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh.” She rolls her eyes. “You should see how he is when she’s gone for the summer. It’s the worst.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pining?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pining, moping, misery, punctuated by sudden orders of flowers and anything he sees online to send to her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flowers </span>
  <em>
    <span>to</span>
  </em>
  <span> or </span>
  <em>
    <span>from </span>
  </em>
  <span>him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Both.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko snorts. From a distance, they watch as the two climb into Sokka’s beat up Jeep, Suki waving from a distance. Katara blows a kiss in return; Zuko nods. As the Jeep fires up and pulls out of the parking space, he turns to Katara, a hesitant smile on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ice cream?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, please.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It takes a few minutes, but the ice cream soothes the heat in her chest and cheeks, and the ease of the weeks and months prior slowly trickles back in. By the time she’s finished the waffle cone, and he’s pulling out of the parking spot, Katara has kicked off her sandals, pulling her feet under her in the seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko eyes her seating arrangement wryly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know that’s not safe, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is a familiar argument-- one they’ve had many times over the period of the past few months. So instead of responding, Katara sticks out her tongue. He chuckles, returning his gaze to the road. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good thing I’m a safe driver.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She beams at him. “Sure is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Comfortable silence falls, the music the only thing between them. In the absence of discussion, Katara finds her mind starting to drift over the past few hours. As the small realizations begin to settle like puzzle pieces in her mind, she finds her gaze brought from the window and the world passing by to the other occupant in the car. His hand on the gear shift, the other draped across the steering wheel, it’s a comfortable arrangement. It’s the one they’ve had for the past few months. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But her mind is drawn to the memory of his fingers-- surprisingly calloused-- running up the bare skin of her arm, curling under her chin. Her eye study that same hand, casually resting over the gear shifter. Without thought, she brings a lazy finger to trace the lines of his knuckles, the tendons that run down the back of his hand. She doesn’t recognize her action until his hand tightens under her ministrations. Sudden fear grips her and she retreats, but he’s faster. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand snags her fleeing one, and for a half-moment, she freezes. But he doesn’t do any more, just holds her steady until she’s ready to move-- whatever way that is. She has no doubt that if she pulled away again, he would let her go. But if she lingered, if she sunk into his touch…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their hands come to rest on her thigh, softly intertwined, his thumb gently running across the hills and valleys of her knuckles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Outside, the hills of the Upper and Middle Rings of Ba Sing Se give way to the subtle slopes that near the harbor. It’s not until he pulls into her apartment complex that the silence is broken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Katara starts slowly, “what’s your plans for the weekend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko shrugs, staring down at where their hands intertwined on her thigh with a soft smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m actually off this weekend for a change. It’s my one weekend a month. Probably mainly just homework.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grimaces. “Yeah, same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko nods glumly as silence once more descends. Neither move to pull away. Katara finally breaks the tension, a coy and hopeful smile on her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like to watch a movie? And maybe order some delivery?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile is radiant. “I’d love that.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Food settled and movie chosen, Katara retreats to change into more comfortable clothes. When she reemerges in soft cotton night pants and a gently worn and fitted tee, she gives Zuko an apologetic look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel bad getting to dress down, and you’re still in jeans.” Not that she is complaining, mind, his dark skinny jeans the right kind of fit for her taste, and with his jacket discarded, he makes quite the sight, his old band shirt just thin enough to follow his lines. She allows herself the perusal of them as he stretches his arms over his head. When she finally looks up, she can see him smirking, but he says nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs nonchalantly. “I’ve lived in jeans solely before. Not ideal, but when they are all you have…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The food is still a bit off (the estimated delivery still half an hour away), so she moves to sit on the couch near him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have I unlocked some more of the Zuko Backstory?” There had been a few snippets about his life they had discussed prior, but large swathes were left untouched and Katara had never pried. It didn’t mean she wasn’t interested, however.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His laugh is soft and unassuming. “If you want it, the lore is available to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooo, yes, please.” She smiles, scooting closer. When his arm drops over her shoulder as if it was intended to be there, her smile grows and she siddles up closer to his perpetual warmth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, long story short: my dad is not… the best of people.” Zuko pauses, and Katara doesn’t push, letting him tell his story at his pace. “I confronted him about something I had heard-- something horrible.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes study him intently as he swallows, his eyes unfocused. He continues. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He scarred me for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shoots up, turning to look at him, eyes wide. “Your </span>
  <em>
    <span>dad</span>
  </em>
  <span> did that to you??”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snorts. “Yeah. Then he kicked me out of the house.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He…” Her words falter, unable to comprehend the cruelty needed for such behavior. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko turns a sad smile to her, shrugging as if it was a small slight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, Katara. Ended up for the better anyway.” He drops his head back onto the couch backer, his eyes studying the ponderous circuit the fan blades were making overhead. “But for a little bit of time, I was on my own. My uncle didn’t know where I was, my dad and sister didn’t care. So I learned to live out of my car, out of the clothes on my back. Now that everything is settled--” he chuckles to himself. “--especially my mental health-- I find I still can’t really go anywhere without their being a bag of essentials in my car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue eyes studied his profile intently, his scarred side facing her, and she’s struck by the man sitting there. He’s unassuming, kind, silent on his own history, where a lesser man would still be screaming it from the rooftops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can you be so calm about all that?” The words escape her in a rush. “I’m ready to go kick your dad in the balls, and I don’t even know the whole story.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs, a hand brushing away a loose strand from her face. She finds this new norm of touch is intoxicating, even in the midst of something as charged as their conversation. He answers her with startlingly clear honesty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Therapy. Lots and lots of it. You probably wouldn’t have liked that Zuko.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How old were you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sixteen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shakes her head ruefully. “I’m sorry you went through that, Zuko.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not. Not really. I think it would have taken me a lot longer to break away from my father’s bad influence.” He takes in her aghast expression, and sits up, facing her earnestly. “I mean, no, I wish I didn’t have the scar. I wish I didn’t have to realize my dad was a massive asshole at sixteen. But I don’t regret the person it made me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I understand.” Her words are soft, and gently she rests her hand on his cheek-- his marred one. His eyes flutter closed at the touch. “And I’m very glad to have met this Zuko.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can feel the pull of his lips on the scarred skin as his smile grows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too.” His words fan across her thumb that hovers over his lips. She doesn’t bother to suppress the shiver that runs down her spine at the sensation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When his eyes reopen, the gold in them is all but gone, replaced with something dark and hungry, and her breath catches in her throat. Her thumb closes the gap, running the pad over the lines of his lips. Reaching his cupid’s bow, she pauses at the tender kiss he places on her thumb. She catches her lip between her teeth the way her heart catches in her chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning his head into her palm, he presses another kiss into her lifeline. Her eyes closed at the sensation. She swallows, begging for the words to come to her. His gentle kisses across the inside of her wrist make it a challenge and she shudders again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zuko…” Has it really been that long, for something as simple as these actions to make her voice so wrecked already? Or is it just Zuko that makes her this worked up?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm?” he hums against her wrist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure about this?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko freezes, and he cups a hand around her jaw, his thumb caressing the swell of her cheek until she opens her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would make you think I wasn’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just…” the memory of the pitying look in his eye from the previous practice comes fluttering up and she squeezes her eyes shut again, trying to push it from her memory. “Nevermind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” his other hand cups her cheek, keeping her face turned towards him, “no, I’m not going any further until I know that you are okay. What’s going on? What did I do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs, resting her head in his warm hands, an apologetic look on her face. “The practice before last.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When Sokka told me that he was taking me back to the apartment and not you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about it?” Confusion pinches his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understood why you didn’t say anything, but you gave me this </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I don’t know how to explain it. Like you were pitying me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face smoothens slightly, even though the confusion is still there. “I did pity you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her face contorts painfully, and she pulls away. “That’s what I mean. Just because my feelings were that obvious, didn’t mean that you have to do anything because you pity me. I don’t want pity friendship or pity make out sessions, or pity se--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa, whoa!” Zuko grabs her shoulders, eyes wide. “It wasn’t that kind of pity, Katara.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s stunned silent for a moment, blinking as she returns to herself. “It… wasn’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” A wry smile pulls at his face. “I pitied you for having to be in a car with those two.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The realization of her outburst settles over her like a heavy fog, Zuko’s words coming to her muffled. He wasn’t pitying her because she was some hopelessly love struck girl. He was pitying her for being stuck around a couple who had little to no understanding of propriety.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shame wells up on her face, her cheeks blazoning in reds and pinks, but thankfully, Zuko has been chattering earnestly about Sokka and Suki, unaware of her embarrassment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... can’t imagine living in the same apartment. They would drive me insane.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She chuckles, trying to regain her footing. “They do. Which is why they’re mainly at her place.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both pause for a moment, a half-smile on both of their faces. Zuko’s the first to break the respite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Katara.” His eyes grow shaded. “To clarify: I missed having you with me, and there is nothing about you that I pity other than your circumstances.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even—“ she pauses, swallowing, eyes hesitant, “—even though I’m falling for a guy who probably doesn’t feel the same way and making myself look like an idiot in the process?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands soften on her cheeks, and he leans in. “Any guy who doesn’t appreciate the amazing person you are Katara, isn’t worth your time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She meets his eyes and finds them startlingly sincere. He smiles, before leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, for one,” he murmurs against her skin, “would very much like to </span>
  <em>
    <span>appreciate</span>
  </em>
  <span> you, Katara.” His forehead comes to rest against hers. “If you’ll let me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue eyes shine up at him. “Does this mean I’m not an idiot who’s throwing herself at a guy who doesn’t like her the same way?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko chuckles softly as he leans in, pausing a breath away from her lips, before brushing them ever so gently across her parted ones. He pulls away just enough for a whisper of ‘does that answer your question’ before he returns, his lips eager and hungry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She meets him stroke for stroke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hands slip to his shirt, balling it up in her fists, and he takes it as a signal, leaning in closer to her. A hand slips behind her neck, shifting the angle, and her lips part as his fingers trace the lines of her throat. The taste of chocolate lingers on his lips. She shudders at the callouses along her collarbone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, her hands release from his shirt, sliding up his chest and neck. She hears his sudden intake of breath as she cards her fingers through his hair. For a moment, Katara finds herself adrift, almost detached from her body, her only connection being the way his lips feel on hers, the startling heat that emanates from him, the chills that follow his fingertips. She’s plummeted back into her body forcefully when he suddenly stops and pulls back, a concerned look in his eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just realized…” He gives her a hesitant smile. “You meant me, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the tension and fear from the past few days escapes her in a bark of a laugh, and she pulls him after her as she lays herself back onto the couch. Hovering over her, his smile is still nervous, but she wraps her arms around his neck and guides him to her lips. She places a chaste kiss there before responding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Zuko.” Her eyes glint. “I meant you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile turns mischievous, and without a breath, he crashes down on to her, hands following the lines of her sides, her hips, coming to rest at the edge of her waistband, while he chases the sound of her pleasure with his lips. Her hands trace his shoulders and down his spine before gripping his shirt firmly and pulling. He pulls away only enough to free himself of his shirt, but she pauses him with a firm hand to his now bare chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko pauses, resting a hand over hers as it splays over his sternum. She can see the question, the ‘are you okay’ on his lips, but her hungry smile stops the words behind his teeth. Fingertips light, she slips from his hand, letting the fingers chase every dip and rise down his chest, across his stomach. Golden eyes flutter closed at her touch, and he leans into it, the muscles jumping as she runs across them. Her fingers come to rest at the top of his jeans, and she pauses for a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dazed eyes flutter open, looking down at her. With a smirk, she twists her fingers deftly and the top button of his jeans releases. He snags her hand, shaking his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now it hardly seems fair,” his voice is husky with heady emotion, “that you are still completely dressed and yet you’re trying to strip me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grins, biting her lip. “Then do something about it, Zuko.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His grip shifts on her hand, raising it above her head, while he snags the other to join. “I plan to.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Using one hand to pin down her wayward hands, he drags his other lazily down her body, honeyed eyes following its progress. He stops to cup one of her breasts, taking the moment to suck a particularly sensitive spot on her neck between his teeth. She rolls under him, a gasp on her lips. He continues his ministrations across her neck and exposed collarbone, his hand reaching the hem of her shirt, a thumb curling up under its edge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pauses. “Katara?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glassy blue eyes meet his. “Yes, Zuko. Spirits, Tui and La, </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Zuko.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A growl escapes him, and releasing his grip on her hands, he uses the hem of her shirt to guide her upright. She follows willingly. With a few shifts, her shirt is discarded with his onto the floor. A breath, a heartbeat, and they surge towards each other. Hands make quick work of her bra, of his jeans. He’s curled over her, and she’s clinging to him, their breaths coming hot, when his hands find the edge of her waistband, and follow the line over her hip, dipping below-- when a knock at the door startles them both. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wild eyed, and breathless, they break apart, matching expressions of confusion on their faces. When the knock comes a second time, Zuko shakes loose first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Food. Dinner.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Her voice is hardly recognizable and rough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Delivery. We ordered food, remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shakes her head as if to clear away the cobwebs. “Oh. Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckles, pulling himself up from the couch. “Dinner’s on me tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Digging into the back pocket of his discarded jeans, he pulls out his wallet and makes his way towards the door, only to pause and contemplate his current state of dress. Snagging his jeans, he slips them on quickly, but leaves them undone. Reaching the door, he positions his lower half behind the solid wood panel of the door as he opens. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Delivery for…” The delivery guy scans Zuko. “You don’t look like a ‘Katara’.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko chuckles, but it’s cut short by the fingers at his waist and the press of hot skin to his back. He swallows, hoping that the hot flush he feels trying to build in his chest stays there and doesn’t quite make it to his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She ordered it, I’m just the one paying for it, okay?” Zuko doesn’t mean to be short, but he feels steady hands slide his unresistant jeans back to the floor, following the lines of his legs the entire way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The delivery guy shrugs. “Sorry, man. Didn’t want to give you the wrong order.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko nods crisply, not trusting his voice as exploratory hands trail back up his thighs, curling around to snag the bottom of his boxer briefs. He shuffles slightly, trying-- and failing-- to relieve the pressure coiling low in his belly. He tries not to offer up a sigh as her hands shift and pull away. But when the delivery guy starts to list off what was contained in the order, Zuko sucks in a sharp breath as her hands follow the line of his hips from his ass to where the ridge dips below his waistband. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s grateful that the delivery guy seems to be oblivious and takes the hiss as a wrong order and rechecks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, shit. Yeah, I grabbed the wrong order-- yours is still in the car.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko’s eyes grow wide. Whether from frustration or from Katara’s hand palming his length through his underwear, he’s not quite sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” Zuko bites out, offering up a watery smile, “just knock when you get back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, man. I’ll be right back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Zuko goes to close the door, Katara yells out from behind him. “Take your time!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko spins, but is quickly pinned against the door by a pair of insistent hands on his hips. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Katara</span>
  </em>
  <span>…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She drops to a knee, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Am I in trouble?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Katara</span>
  </em>
  <span>…” His words escape him like a growl, but he’s cut off by her hands tugging down his waistband. It’s easy to see the evidence of her attention by the hard length of him breaking free from behind his underwear. She smirks up at him, evidently proud of her work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he can speak again, her lips are soft around his cock, her tongue doing wickedly delicious things as she slowly draws him in. The hiss that escapes him is almost a word, but it falters on the first syllable. Katara hums around him, and his mouth goes slack. He drops his head back against the wood of the door, letting a string of curses escape his mouth unedited. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulls back slowly, and his hand slips into her hair, gripping it firmly, but letting her take the lead. A devious grin splits her face, her breath fanning out over the wet skin as she speaks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never knew you had such a dirty mouth, Zuko.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes blown wide meet hers as he grits out: “Only when you’re doing something that dirty with yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Locking her eyes on his, she runs the flat of her tongue firmly across the underside of his cock, and he gasps. She smiles widely up at him. “Touche.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before either can speak again, a knock on the door stops them. She smiles and pulls the waistband of his underwear up meticulously, letting her fingers linger on his hips before standing and walking away. Zuko stares after her slack-jawed for a long moment until the delivery guy knocks again, and he’s shaken from his reverie, grousing, and reaching for his jeans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah…”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The delivery guy paid, and the food carefully stored, Zuko turns to the couch to find it empty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Katara?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In here.” Her voice emanates from one of the rooms off of the main living space-- the only one with the door ajar and the lights on. He follows the sound of her voice  She’s sitting on the edge of a comfortable looking bed, having retrieved her shirt. A smirk pulls at his lips as he takes her in. Leaning towards her, he plucks at the hem of her shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought I had already taken care of that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soft blue eyes meet his. “Guess you’ll have to take care of it again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he steps forward, though, his smile fades slightly. “You know, you didn’t have to do all... “ he gestures vaguely towards the living room, “that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her head cocks to the side wryly. “I wouldn’t have, if I didn’t want to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko’s smile grows as he sinks to his knees before her. “Turnabout’s fair play, then, wouldn’t you say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you-- oh!” His hands grip her thighs, pulling her closer to the edge of the bed. With an experienced hand, he works her cotton pants down past her hips to pool at the floor below her ankles. Gently, he lifts her knees over his shoulders, placing tender kisses on her inner thigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leans back onto her elbows, watching him closely. As Zuko meets her eye, though, he pulls some of her tender skin through his teeth, and she keens. Her head falling back, her body follows, hands reaching to card through his hair. He smiles against her thigh, hands slowly running up and down them, until he brings one to her center, his fingers brushing against her core. Body arching, she lets out a gasp, and Zuko follows it. He finds a rhythm, her sounds his metronome, and he let’s her set the pace. When he finds it, he plays her </span>
  <em>
    <span>a piacere</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and drags his tongue over her clit, and he finds a new symphony in the noises she makes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hands are tight in his hair, conducting his composition, so when she tugs him up and away, her eyes wide and hungry, he follows. Reverentially, he places the gentlest of kisses to her skin, peppering her with the affection he feels with her under him, around him, and her legs wrap around his waist, and he pauses, lined up, but waiting for his conductor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zuko…” It’s a gasp, </span>
  <em>
    <span>pianissimo</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He gazes down at her, pouring all of his sincerity, all of his emotion, into a single look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want, Katara?” With a feather touch, he brushes her cheek with his thumb, his words just as soft. She leans into the touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sinks into her as his lips meet hers, and swallows her cry. Short nails run red lines down his neck, his shoulders, his arms. Zuko doesn’t flinch, pulling her closer, arm around her hips. They move together, slowly building to crescendo. A breath, a twist, and the moment is heralded by the staccato of his hips and her breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Together, they ride the aftershocks, their hearts and breaths slowing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arms still around each other, legs still entwined, they fall together. Katara smiles at him, her hands running through his hair, smoothening the tangles her own fingers had put there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko sighs at the motion, his eyes closing. “I could very much get used to this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katara’s silence panics him, and his eyes shoot open, his words coming at a rush. “I mean, if you want-- if you’d like this to be more--” A single finger to his lips stops his words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like that very much.” Her smile is bright as she places a chaste kiss to his brow, but she dances away from his touch as she pulls herself from the bed. “I’d also like to get cleaned up and eat as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pauses by the doorway to look at him still watching her as she walks, and throws a devious smile his way. “Maybe you can help with both of those…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is on his feet before his mind catches up.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The food is on her plate and steaming, a fresh set of clothes on her body, and Zuko is sitting next to her on the couch, before Katara snags the cellphone she had left on the coffee table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seven messages. All from Suki. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>7:38 pm: Hey, girl. Sokka forgot his multi-tool. You know how he gets about that thing. Gonna run by in about an hour and pick it up. Just didn’t want you thinking I was a axe murderer or something. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Katara’s heart jumps into her throat. She glances at the time. 9:47 pm. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>8:14 pm: We’re here. Do you think you could run it down?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>8:17 pm: Nvm. I’ll come up and get it. I forgot you usually go get ice cream with Zuko. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Panic sets in; after all, Suki does have a key…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>8:23 pm: So… </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>8:23 pm: “Ice cream”? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>8:24 pm: or is it “you scream”?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuckfuckfuckfuuuuck….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, Zuko?” Katara’s voice is nervous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm?” He responds around a mouthful of food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We might have a problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>8:35 pm: I won’t tell Sokka until you want. But a girl does need details…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Katara lets out a breath. “Okay, so crisis averted, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns her phone to Zuko. He takes a moment to read it, stops, and then reads it again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Suki was...here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katara nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When we were…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Having sex. Yes, Zuko.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what we were doing, yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glares at her for a moment, but then his face turns thoughtful. “Wait, why is it a bad thing for Sokka to know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t aware of my background or my exes, so let’s just say that Jet screwed over me being able to tell my brother about any relationship I’ve had since.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jet? As in tall, dark hair, always has a toothpick, cig or something in his mouth?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know Jet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We evidently have similar tastes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs. “Crappy taste, you mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like to think my tastes have improved.” He throws a smile her way, and she can’t help but smile in return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, mine </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> have.” Her smile fades. “But unfortunately, Sokka was the first to tell me that Jet was a bad idea. So whenever I get into any relationship, he holds it over my head. Suki and I agreed to keep my relationships between us until Sokka </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> to know now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess that makes sense.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He falls silent, his eyes back on the movie they had picked out. Katara bites her lip, but turns back to her phone, responding to Suki.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>K: 9:50 pm: How do you know it was Zuko?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She snags a few bites before Suki responds. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>S: 9:53 pm: You’re not quiet, ‘Tara. Especially when you’re repeating his name.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>K: 9:53 pm: dammit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just… please don’t tell Sokka. I don’t want to have another speech.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>S: 9:54 pm: Zuko okay with that?</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <span>Katara glances up at him. A small furrow is between his eyes, even though the movie currently on her tv is a comedy. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>K: 9:55 pm: I don’t think so.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>S: 9:55 pm: Katara…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>K: 9:56 pm: I *know* okay? Soon. I’ll tell Sokka soon. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Suki falls silent, and Katara returns to her food, unhappily picking at it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” His voice startles her out of her reverie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” She contemplates the food before her. “Yeah, as long as you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The furrow in his brow grows deeper. “Why wouldn’t I be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She falls silent for a long moment, considering her words. “You just didn’t seem too pleased about not telling Sokka.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” It’s his turn to study his food. “No, it’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No it’s not.” She sighs, putting down her food and turning to face him. “Zuko, this isn’t about you. If Sokka could actually be mature, I would tell the world. But he has this overpowering urge to both baby me and also prove me wrong whenever he can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another long silence descends, but when he speaks, she’s surprised by the simple response. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She studies his face. “Just okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Katara,” he faces her, a soft smile on his face. “If we’re going to make this work at all, I’ve got to be able to trust you. And you’ve got to be able to trust me, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then consider this me trusting you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, her smile grows to match his. “This you or your Psych Major talking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolls his eyes. “I’m going to regret telling you my major, aren’t I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>S: 10:01 pm: Just don’t overthink it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>K: 10:01 pm: Yes ma’am.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>If Sokka notices anything at practice more than a return to the previous norm, he says nothing of it. The rituals continue, especially on Friday nights, when long weekends at Suki’s is just too great of a pull for Sokka. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko’s bag of essentials see more use in the proceeding months than it had in the years since he had moved in with his Uncle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suki send more and more pointed looks towards Katara as Sokka continues along blissfully unaware. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katara can't complain much in her lot, she finds, despite Suki’s persistent looks and text messages. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, one Friday night after practice, a few months later, Sokka tosses up the suggestion of ice cream all together. Zuko and Katara glance at each other before agreeing. Their version of “ice cream” had definitely taken on new meaning for them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as she puts away get violin, her mind on how to combine the two, she overhears Sokka talking to Zuko. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... take her. You drive her home a ton, and since we’re all going for ice cream together, she doesn’t need to ride with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll have to ask Katara. I’ve learned not to </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell</span>
  </em>
  <span> her, but ask.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka laughs. “You learned that quicker than I did!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So when they are done, Katara bounds out the door, making sure she is in Zuko’s passenger seat by the time Sokka emerges. He glances at Zuko.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can ask if you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko merely shrugs. “Your funeral, buddy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a gentle rap on the window, Sokka offers up a pleasant smile at his sister. She scowls back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Sokka?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can ride with us, since we’re going to the same place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hard pass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the now-open driver’s side door, she can hear a chuckle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka continues, confused. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I know how you two get, and I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> seen more than I should or want to have. And besides,” she raises Zuko’s phone, “Zuko lets me get to choose the music.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka rolls his eyes before standing up to talk to Zuko over the hood of the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve spoiled her, man. I’ll never get her to ride with me again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko laughs. “I told you it wouldn’t work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka waves it off, climbing into his Jeep. Behind his back, Suki gives pointed looks and gestures. Katara resolutely ignores them as Zuko backs out of the parking spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any particular reason why you wanted to ride with me instead of your brother?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katara lists off her reasons on her fingers. “One; he’s with Suki. There’s some things a girl never needs to see her brother do to her best friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both shudder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two,” she continues, “Music choice. I can listen to whatever I want! And third, and most importantly, I wanted to make up for our actual routine this evening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raises a brow. “And how do you intend to do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hand runs up his inner thigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have some ideas.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Sokka grunts in frustration as he turns around once more in the parking lot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sokka, just give up.” Suki rolls her eyes. “You’re not going to find a closer spot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He mumbles something and Suki slips her hand into his and squeezes slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Besides, there’s Zuko’s car.” She points out across the parking lot towards a distant corner where Zuko’s car stands alone. “We should just go park by them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka continues to grumble, but turns towards the distant car. “Why the hell would he park so far out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles over at him but a sudden wash of dread whips her head towards the dark car. Scanning the silhouettes, she spots Zuko’s over the headrest of his chair, but Katara seems to be nowhere to be found. Pieces begin to click together, and she turns to Sokka with a nervous laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I think I just saw a spot open up over there!” She points over his shoulder, but Sokka shakes his head resolutely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m done looking for spots. We’re parking next to Zuko, and getting our ice cream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh…” Suki scans for any other option, but it’s too late, as they slide into the spot and into park.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka sighs. “Let’s just get our ice… cream?” He glances over at Zuko’s car, brow furrowing. “Where’s Katara?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panicking, Suki grabs his arm, and Sokka turns with a question on his lips. She chases it away with her own. Over his shoulder, she watches as Katara straightens up in her chair, her hands smoothing down her hair. Suki doesn’t see or hear what Zuko says, but watches Katara’s shoulders shake in laughter. Then he spots Sokka’s Jeep, pointing over her shoulder. Suki watches Katara’s eyes grow wide as she eyes her brother’s Jeep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka shifts his attention to Suki’s neck, and she winks at Katara. Mouthing ‘you’re welcome’, she gives the other two a moment to reshuffle before pulling back from Sokka. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dazed, he blinks at her. “What was that for?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suki just shrugs before making a small show of seeing Katara in the car. “Oh, look! There’s Katara.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka spins in the chair, before giving his sister a skeptical look. “Where was she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suki shrugs again. “Maybe she was leaning over to pick something up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sokka, stop overthinking this. Let’s just get our ice cream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you’re right.” Together, they exit the car, joining Zuko and Katara who are already standing outside of their car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suki meets Zuko’s eye, gesturing behind Sokka’s back to smooth his hair. Zuko turns a shade of pink, but hides it with a casual swipe over his hair. She rolls her eyes before snagging Katara’s arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, why don’t you guys go get the ice cream. Katara and I will wait here for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko and Katara share a look, but he nods. As soon as the guys are out of earshot, Suki rounds on Katara.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have </span>
  <em>
    <span>got</span>
  </em>
  <span> to tell Sokka. I can’t keep covering for you guys--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-- it’s been too many times just </span>
  <em>
    <span>this week.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You guys are getting ridiculous--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m telling him tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-- and I just can’t any-- wait, you’re going to tell him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katara nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tonight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles wryly. “Yeah, I think we’re at the point where Sokka can’t really say anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Good!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The word escapes in a rush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s good?” Sokka’s voice cuts through the conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suki grins wide. “That you’re back with the ice cream already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watches as Katara takes the offered ice cream from Zuko, her fingers lingering over his. The four of them fall into easy conversation. Sokka takes his first bite of the ice cream and his eyes grow wide. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, yeah, I see why you come here for ice cream. Damn, that’s good stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He offers his cone to Suki and she snags a taste. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko nods. “I found this place when I wasn’t in the best place mentally. I definitely ate here more than I care to admit to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns to Katara. “Want a taste?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles, but instead of going for his cone, she rolls up to her tip toes and places a lingering kiss to his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm.” Her eyes stay closed as she pulls away, running her tongue over her lips. “Very good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence descends over the group, and Suki turns to Sokka, waiting for his reaction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face is slack, eyes darting between the other two. “You… you two…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Katara rolls her eyes and leans against Zuko. “You tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko, for his part, at least looks a little abashed. “You okay with that, Sokka?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suki watches her boyfriend’s face go through a range of emotions before finally settling on acceptance. “I mean, Katara, you’ve had worse boyfriends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue eyes roll. “Thanks for the ringing endorsement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka shoves her shoulder playfully. “You know I have to rag on you. But, in all seriousness, yeah. Yeah I am.” he levels a finger at both of them. “Just nothing more than hand-holding and kissing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other three give each other meaningful glances, Sokka watching this exchange with dawning horror. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait. Wait, no…” His eyes suddenly grow wide. “Wait-- Suki she ‘dropped something’?!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suki shrugs. “You know I like Katara more than you, Sokka.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Argh!” His cry echoes in the parking lot, and Suki laughs after him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slipping an arm around Katara’s waist, Zuko smiles, watching the interchange. “They’re good together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She spins in the orbit of his arms, resting her chin on his chest to look up at him. “I think we’re good together too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Placing a chaste kiss to her lips, he rests his forehead against hers. “Yeah, me too. Just wait till you meet Uncle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t wait.” She leans up to meet his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Sokka’s voice cuts through the kiss. “None of that!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other three just laugh.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Fractures</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In case you are looking for Part Two of this, Here's the<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30468117"> LINK</a><br/><br/><em><strong>Please mind the tags. This one is not the fluffy part. I will be writing this in their own stories, so that way if this is where you want the story to end, it's where it ends. The rest gets pretty dramatic and painful for a time.</strong></em></p>
  </div></div>
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